


The Perfect Man

by Ellessey



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers, Recovery, Unexpected feelings, Valentine's Day, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, dating apps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey
Summary: "I'm Steve, by the way."Steve. That's cute. Steve's really fucking cute, and he's falling into step beside Bucky on the way to his apartment."Bucky," Bucky remembers to say after a noticeable pause."Huh. And you didn't go with FuckyBucky for your handle?""I really don't even want to talk about my handle," Bucky admits, and when Steve laughs it's loud and it makes his nose crinkle up. Bucky can barely believe this is happening.__Setting up a dating profile is decidedly not in Bucky's skill-set, but against all odds he manages to connect with someone who makes the one-night stand he thought he wanted feel like not nearly enough.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 126
Kudos: 1012
Collections: Sweet and Gentle Steve/Bucky





	The Perfect Man

**Author's Note:**

> JUST in case you're curious... very much picturing Bucky with the entire look Sebastian had while visiting NASA in his cozy grey sweater.

Bucky loves his bed. He loves it with the kind of passion he suspects is typically directed towards a boyfriend or girlfriend. He couldn't say for sure, having not experienced anything close to that in years.

He _can_ say that his bed is easily worthy of every bit of affection he feels for it. It's stupidly oversized for a single guy, fully loaded at a 7:1 pillow to person ratio, and his comforter is the kind of soft that's almost startling. _How_ can something actually be this downy and fluffy and perfect? He doesn't know, but it's the best fucking part of his day every time he gets to come home and crawl underneath it. 

He's home now, shedding his slacks and collared shirt on the floor as he leaves the work day behind, and prepares for a night of Netflix in his underwear and an old sweater. This is a solo plan, it does not require a partner. It never does. 

And yet, there is someone waiting there, propped up against the mountain of pillows.

He is small but well muscled, clad in white boxer shorts patterned in red hearts. His head is too large, his legs comically short. The pink box that encases him calls him _The Perfect Man._

" _Sam,"_ Bucky yells.

He was just talking to his roommate a few minutes ago before excusing himself to be reunited with his bed, so he knows he's nearby. Probably still out in the kitchen.

A moment later Bucky's bedroom door opens up and Sam pokes his head in. He looks like he's trying very hard to appear innocent. It's not fucking working. 

"What is that?" Bucky asks, waving a hand towards the tiny man.

Sam smiles, too pleased with himself to bother keeping up the clueless act. "Is it not… self explanatory?"

Bucky gives him his most level stare. Sam has referred to it on more than one occasion as his Bert stare. 

"It's a man!" Sam says, coming all the way into the room. "Because you _need_ a man, but you're never gonna _get_ one sitting around the way you do every weekend, so… I got you this." 

"Is he edible?"

"Milk chocolate, baby."

Bucky nods. That's acceptable. "Alright. Thanks."

Sam's eyebrows furrow in disappointment and he has the gall to flop down on Bucky's bed. His _sanctuary._ "That's _it?"_

"What do you want?"

"You know I'm mocking you, right? You caught that part? The part where you should get your ass out there and meet a real actual man?"

Bucky rolls his eyes and face-plants into the pillow end of the bed. It welcomes him with open arms. 

It's been a long fucking time since he was really wrapped up in anyone's arms. Some time in the middle of his last tour, maybe, when _he_ had two actual arms, instead of a regular one and a prosthetic. Or sometimes just an empty space. 

Almost two years have passed since he came home, and since he met Sam at the VA and somehow wrangled their counselor/vet relationship into a friendship, and then into a living arrangement. According to both Sam and Bucky's therapist, he's accomplished a lot in those two years, but he still likes being alone in his bed better than pretty much anything else. And Sam, fuck him, wants more than that for Bucky.

"You know tomorrow is Valentine's Day," he says, as if Bucky could possibly have missed the entire aisles full of teddy bears, hearts, and more fucking chocolate than anyone needs whenever he goes to the store.

"It's just a made up day. It doesn't mean anything," Bucky says, turning his head so he can mostly see Sam over the pillow cushioning his cheek. 

"It means a whole lotta people are gonna get laid, and you're not."

Bucky regrets repositioning himself, since Sam can now see him too. He hopes his face is doing a good job of showing zero emotion, which it probably is because that's one of his skills. Along with occasionally losing his shit when a noise startles him, and devoting 75% of his brainspace to overthinking every fucking thing in existence. 

Whatever his face is doing or not doing, he _is_ having a bit of a reaction inside. He doesn't give a shit about Valentine's Day, but he's been thinking quite a bit lately about getting laid. Or, specifically, about how long it's been since he got laid. It wasn't on his radar for a long time, but just in the past few months he's noticed himself… wanting, in a way he'd almost given up on while mired in therapy and anti-depressants and learning to do every goddamn thing with one hand. 

He uses the prosthetic a lot more now than he used to, but he never wears it at night. His bed does not require it. It asks nothing of him but for him to ease his body into it and be exactly who he is. A tired, one-armed man who can watch bad sci-fi for hours on end, and has lately been finding himself getting pleasantly hot and bothered by the male leads. 

"I guess," he says eventually. He closed his eyes at some point while his mind was wandering, but he knows Sam is there still, patiently waiting. "But dating's so…" He shrugs his shoulders, hoping that will convey his feelings on the matter. 

"I mean, sure, if it's not _good_ dating. But what about just… fucking?"

"You hittin' on me, Wilson?"

"Tempting," Sam says.

He doesn't mean that. Bucky has already told him it'd help him out a whole lot if Sam wasn't straight, because he's about the only person Bucky likes, and he's got thighs and biceps for days, but alas. Sam's dating Natasha (okay, so there are two people Bucky likes), and Bucky is screwed and alone. 

"But I meant, like… you could just hook-up with someone, for starters. Use one of those apps I got for you." 

"What for? I've already got this guy." Bucky reaches out until his hand makes contact with the pink box. "He's gonna melt in my mouth."

"Don't you want a real one though? To… you know, do… stuff? In your mouth?"

Bucky grins. Sometimes he loves that Sam is straight, because it means he gets to witness awkwardness like this.

"Did it hurt you to say that?"

"No, it didn't. Fuck you."

"Couldn't even be specific? Couldn't ask me if I want a nice hot dick in my mouth?"

Sam smashes a pillow into Bucky's face, but it doesn't do much to muffle his laughter. 

" _You're_ a dick. Get yourself a date for tomorrow. Get yourself some ass."

Bucky sighs. Some ass would be nice. Some dick would be even nicer, but… "I don't know," he says. "I'll think about it."

"Good, that's good, man," Sam says, sitting up and knocking some pillows out of his way before he gets off the bed. "You know there's more than enough room in here for—"

"A real actual man. Yeah, I know."

"Aright," Sam says, raising his hands like he's giving up. (He's not, he never does.) "If you need help with your profile…"

Bucky waves him away and sinks back into his bed once Sam has closed the door behind himself. 

This is fine, this is good. He has Netflix. He has a chocolate man. He has a bed that _does_ have room for another person in it, but that doesn't mean there _needs_ to be one.

It's not until three episodes and half a chocolate man later that he picks his phone up. Sam packed it with dating apps last month after he walked in on Bucky jerking off and responded with unbridled joy, as any normal friend would.

"You're horny!" he'd shouted through the door. "That's great! You deserve this, Barnes!"

Bucky snorts a little, remembering it. He doesn't know if he _deserves_ it, but it's been nice, even just getting off by himself. It could also be nice, maybe, to get off with someone else. Just once, without any conversation or history.

He opens one of the apps and is immediately faced with having to select a name and a profile picture. He considers shouting for Sam again, but he's a grown ass man. Surely he can do this. And if he does it badly and his profile sucks, he just won't get laid. It won't be anything new. 

There aren't many pictures on his phone that actually have him in them, but he finds a few that Sam took at Christmas. He got Bucky this stupid hoodie with cat ears, and when Bucky tried it on, Sam insisted on capturing it in case he never wore it again. Totally unnecessary because it's soft as fuck and Bucky loves it almost as much as his comforter—he wears it all the time. 

But the pictures are still here. His cheeks are a little flushed from the spiked eggnog Natasha brought over, and he's wearing his hair down, clean and wavy from a recent shower. He looks… okay. He's actually smiling, looking off to the side because Nat had just said something funny from the kitchen. 

He also has cat ears though, which is maybe not the image he wants to go for, but it's what he has. He selects the one photo that isn't blurry, inputs his name (downtobuck), his age (26), and nothing else, other than specifying that he's only interested in hook-ups. If someone sees his face and his stupid hoodie and wants to fuck him, great. He's not offering anything else, and he's not looking for it.

He doesn't scroll through anyone else's pictures, just sets his phone aside and pulls the blanket over his face. Tomorrow will bring what it will bring, but tonight he has seven pillows and the faint scent of chocolate in the air, and that's enough for him. 

* * * 

Waking is a slow process, it always is. First, Bucky registers where he is, registers that he's comfortable and safe. (Another reason he loves his bed so much. The moment he's conscious his senses are gently greeted by _soft,_ and _warm,_ and _home.)_ Then he luxuriates in it all for a little while. 

Unless it was a bad night, and registering his safety once he wakes isn't enough to slow his breathing and panicked heart rate. On those mornings he needs extra time, extra pillow snuggling.

This isn't a bad morning though. He lies there for a while, just enjoying all of the good feelings, thinking vague thoughts about the coming day. Contemplating eating the rest of _The Perfect Man_ for breakfast.

Then he remembers the app—the impulsive setting up of his profile—and he looks at his phone.

Oh, God.

"Down to _Buck?"_ he says out loud. Why had he chosen that? No one even knows his name is Bucky so the pun is completely meaningless to anyone but him. Why would he even put a pun in his display name? And _why_ have so many people favorited him and sent him messages?

He has so many regrets when he looks in his inbox. There is a _lot_ of stuff about cats, and tails, and collars. 

Semi-important decisions should never be made at one in the morning. 

"SAM!" he bellows. It's 7:30 so Sam should be up but still at home, and sure enough he's bursting into Bucky's room within moments.

"What? What is it?" 

"Oh, sorry no, I'm—I'm fine," Bucky clarifies, belatedly realizing that Sam probably thought this was a bad morning. "I just—I used this app?"

Sam's eyes widen and he hustles over to Bucky's bed, leaning over to see his phone screen. "Wha… why's he calling you pussycat? What did you—"

Bucky backs out of his messages and pulls his profile up. 

" _Oh,"_ Sam says. And then he reads Bucky's name and snorts. "Down to… are you serious? That's what you went with?"

Bucky puts his phone in Sam's hand and curls up in a ball. "Please fix it," he says. 

Sam just sits there laughing like an asshole. It's a minute or so before he remembers it's his duty to be helpful when Bucky's being pathetic, and he looks at Bucky's profile again.

"I mean… it _is_ a good picture. Real cute."

"I'm an idiot."

"No, you know what? You like cats and you like being warm. These are truths. It was a good choice."

Bucky sighs and rolls back towards Sam. He loves him a lot sometimes. 

"This isn't bad, we just…" Sam's face scrunches up and Bucky peeks over to see that his inbox has been reopened. "Just gotta weed through this shit and, you know… find someone who doesn't wanna put a leash on you. Unless you _want—"_

"I really don't," Bucky says. "I just want some vanilla sex for now."

Sam nods and keeps scrolling. And scrolling. And scrolling.

"Okay, so, good news is a lot of dudes are down to… _buck_ you."

"Shut up."

Sam shoots a broad smile at him and Bucky knows he's never gonna live that name down. 

"Bad news," Sam goes on. "They all nasty as fuck."

"Just delete it. It was stupid anyway."

"No, no, just… hey, just ignore all of them, okay? And _you_ choose someone. Look around on your lunch and find a boy you wanna bang."

"I dunno," Bucky says, pushing the covers aside and finally working towards leaving the bed. "I started a new series last night and—"

"Oh my God, _no._ That's _depressing._ You are not watching TV tonight, you're getting laid. That's it."

"But—"

"You are getting _laid,"_ Sam says, and he's making his Intense Sam face, so Bucky doesn't bother arguing with him.

He doesn't respond to the endless text messages Sam sends while he's at work, either—the ones asking if he's found anyone he likes yet. He hasn't even looked. He's not sure he ever will. The one time he peeked, on his lunch, he had thirty-seven new messages in his inbox and he felt a little like throwing up. 

**Sam:** stop looking at the messages... we already know they suck  
 **Sam:** look at the GUYS  
 **Sam:** find a pretty face

Bucky sends back an eye-rolling emoji as he walks out of the elevator at the end of the day. Against all his better judgment, he opens the app again. And then he opens his inbox, because it's like a fucking car crash and he just can't not. 

Three new messages come in before he even blinks. Two of them are cringey. One of them is… normal. Huh, who knew that even existed. 

**BiteMe:** i like your hoodie, looks comfy. you free for a drink?

It _is_ comfy, thank you very much. Bucky taps on the tiny round picture next to the message so he can enlarge it. BiteMe is… well he's definitely a pretty face. Big blue eyes, full lips, golden hair falling over his forehead. He's also less than two hundred meters away.

 _Sure, I just got off work,_ Bucky texts back, because why the fuck not? 

**BiteMe:** great...i'm down to fuck too, but i kinda prefer starting somewhere public first  
 **BiteMe:** some people are skeevy af and you can't tell till you meet them  
 **BiteMe:** apologies in advance if i find you skeevy

 **downtobuck:** right back at you  
 **downtobuck:** i just joined last night and i'm pretty much ready to give up on the entire human race just based on the messages i've gotten

 **BiteMe:** lol right?? i kind of regret my name choice, but also don't because mostly it just makes it real easy to tell if someone's one giant red flag

 **downtobuck:** same. you are literally the first person who hasn't made me want to gouge my eyes out

 **BiteMe:** glad to hear it...there's a bar about halfway between us, next to that little danish bakery. i'll meet you out front?

 **downtobuck:** sounds good, see you soon

Bucky tucks his phone back in his pocket, then immediately pulls it out again in a panic, turning on his front-facing camera so he can see what he even looks like. 

His hair is swept back but not tied up. It's not as long now as it was in his profile picture so he can't get it in a good bun anymore, but he could manage a little ponytail if he had an elastic on hand, which… upon checking his wrist he finds he doesn't. 

It looks _fine_ though, and his facial hair is at the heavy stubble stage that Sam says makes him look rugged but not _too_ rugged. Natasha says it makes him look "Daddy", which he really doesn't know what to do with, but she said it like it was good. 

He's at least dressed for work, so he looks reasonably put together in a black collared shirt and grey slacks, instead of the sweats and ratty shirt he'd be wearing at any other time.

 _Okay,_ he thinks. _Here we go._

He sends a quick text to Sam to let him know his plans, and then hurries up the block. He watches BiteMe's location on his phone as the distance between them gets smaller and smaller, putting it away only when he can see a fair-haired figure approaching the same bar he's heading towards, wearing skinny jeans and a big blue hoodie. 

_"Oh,"_ Bucky says out loud when he comes to a stop, and BiteMe, presumably, is looking up at him. He's... perfect. He's absolutely fucking perfect.

BiteMe scowls at him, those beautiful pink lips pursing as his eyebrows draw together. "Look, there's no rule that says you have to give out your height before you—"

"Wh-what?" Bucky stutters. "No, no, that's not—I just… I didn't expect you to look as good as your picture, but you… you _do."_

He really does. He's _gorgeous_. Like, curling golden eyelashes and long pale neck gorgeous. Skinny legs spread in a fighting stance gorgeous. Crooked nose and soft hair and goddamn… maybe Bucky doesn't regret firing that app up at all.

BiiteMe looks confused at first, but then his lips soften before finally curving up just enough to form a small, half-smile. 

"Oh," he says. "I thought—sorry about that."

"It's okay. I, uh… hi."

BiteMe smiles all the way. His lips are so soft inside a face that's all angles. He's a foot shorter than Bucky, but he feels very… big. Bright, maybe. "Hi," he says. "You look even better than your picture."

Bucky bites his lip and tries to think of something to say, but nothing is coming to the forefront of his mind other than _pretty, you're so pretty._

It's been way too long since he got laid.

"Should we…" he finally gets out, gesturing towards the bar's entrance with his left hand, the prosthetic one, and then trying not to visibly wince.

"Nah, I'm good." 

Oh. Well shit, that ended quickly. 

Bucky nods reflexively, in a desperate attempt to show that this is totally fine and he's not crushingly disappointed right now. "Okay," he says, and God, his voice is not that high normally.

"So your place or mine?" BiteMe says. "Not to be cliché, but we gotta go somewhere, right? I'm a few miles uptown, or—"

"Oh, you meant—you mean you want to—"

"Fuck? Yeah," BiteMe says, all matter of fact. "Wait, did you think I was blowing you off?"

 _"Yeah,"_ Bucky says, because he's lacking in any game whatsoever. He had it, once upon a time, but he hasn't quite relocated it yet.

BiteMe just smiles at him and says it again. "Your place or mine?"

"I'm just a couple blocks up."

"Then yours it is. I'm Steve, by the way."

Steve. That's cute. Steve's really fucking cute. He's really fucking cute and he's falling into step beside Bucky on the way to his apartment.

"Bucky," Bucky remembers to say after a noticeable pause. 

"Huh. And you didn't go with FuckyBucky for your handle?"

"I really don't even want to talk about my handle," Bucky admits, and when Steve laughs it's loud and it makes his nose crinkle up. Bucky can barely believe this is happening.

He manages to keep up with their conversation while they make their way to his building and then up the three flights of stairs to his floor. He learns that Steve is twenty-five and works as a freelance artist. He learns that something about Steve's big deep voice and wiry little body really _does_ something to him.

And then they're in his apartment, kicking off their shoes and crossing the shared living space to his room, and he's so nervous suddenly he can barely get his goddamn door open.

"Holy shit," Steve says, stepping inside and looking around. "Your bed's, like…"

Weird. Excessively fluffy. Embarrassingly overfilled with any and every soft thing Bucky's grown attached to over the past two years, including a giant cat pillow that he can't believe Steve is seeing right now oh _God._

"A haven," Steve finishes. "Looks so fuckin' cozy."

"It's… yeah," Bucky says, letting out a breath. "I, uh, I don't know. I love my bed."

"I'd love it too," Steve says easily. "You gonna fuck me on it?"

"You're, um… you're not put off by the cat?"

Steve grins, climbing onto Bucky's bed and pulling the big, squishy cat pillow towards himself. "You like cats, right? That's fine with me."

This is so bizarre. There is a beautiful guy in his bed. A real one. And he's hugging Bucky's cat plushie to his chest now like this is all just normal, and—

"Hey, Buck?" Steve says. "If you've changed your mind…"

"No, no, I'm just—it's not—"

"C'mere?" Steve says, reaching a hand out to him. 

Bucky takes it with his right hand, even though he should have used his left, and then he feels stupid and awkward and pulls it back again, dropping down beside Steve but looking away from him. 

"You seem a little nervous," Steve says, not unkindly. "Has it been a while?"

Bucky nods, running his fingers over the palm of his prosthetic. He doesn't _like_ wearing it in bed, but Steve is in his bed too, and he doesn't know what to do with that. "Since before I got this," he says. "I think I'm just… I'm sorry. I haven't changed my mind, but it's really okay if you have."

Long, slender fingers brush over Bucky's wrist, then settle warm on the back of his hand. There are bits of paint caught under the short nails. Peacock blue and rich purple. 

"Nope," Steve says. "And I'm not in a hurry, if you need to take it slow."

Bucky keeps his eyes on their hands, thinking about what it is that he needs. He's not nervous about having sex, he _wants_ to have sex, he just hasn't been with someone like that in so long. He hasn't been with someone in this body. "I haven't… honestly, I didn't think about what I'd do with the arm."

"What do you _want_ to do with it?"

"I prefer it off, when I'm in bed. It's kind of hard and clunky, and just…"

"You like soft things," Steve says, and Bucky nods. "Hope you're not disappointed I'm bony as hell, then."

Bucky looks up to catch Steve's expression and he's glad he did. There's a hint of self consciousness at the edges of his eyes that Bucky recognizes, but his smile is warm and teasing. It's inviting Bucky to be in on the joke. 

"Not _everything_ needs to be soft," he says, smiling when Steve wiggles his eyebrows in response. "And I'm not disappointed at all."

"I'm not either, and if you want to start taking things off…" Steve's eyes move over Bucky. His fingers slip off Bucky's hand to tug gently at the waistband of his slacks. "...I'm happy to help."

Bucky nods, reaching for Steve's shirt instead of his own, and pulling both the hoodie and the t-shirt underneath it off when Steve raises his arms. Steve's chest is lean and narrow, with a smattering of light hair and a thick, pale pink scar running down the center. His stomach is flat, but soft. Bucky wants to rest his face on it. 

"Your turn?" Steve says, waiting until Bucky nods before he scoots closer on his knees and starts slipping the buttons of Bucky's shirt free. He meets Bucky's eyes again before pulling it off his shoulders and down his arms, leaving Bucky in his sleeveless undershirt and baring the junction where his residual limb and the prosthetic arm meet. "How long?" he asks.

"Coming up on two years. It was… I was in the Army."

"Is it okay if… do you prefer me to avoid touching it?"

Bucky thinks about that, busying himself with releasing the suspension system that keeps the prosthetic in place. "Yeah, I think so. But Steve, listen, if you don't want—"

"Hey," Steve says, and it's almost sharp, drawing Bucky's eyes straight to Steve's face. God, there's probably not much he wouldn't do if Steve told him to in that commanding tone. "I want to be here, Bucky. Wouldn't be if I didn't want to. You gotta trust that, just like I'm trusting you'll tell me if you want me to leave, or stop, or anything else you need, right?"

"I… yeah, I will," Bucky says, setting the prosthetic aside on his nightstand, and leaving the soft liner on the small stump below his shoulder. Steve makes it sound so simple, and his eyes are so direct and honest when Bucky meets them that it's not so hard to believe it can be. 

Steve wants to be here. Bucky wants Steve. His arm not being the same as it used to be doesn't have to change that. 

"Our bodies are all stories," Steve says, softer now, reaching to toy with the hem of Bucky's undershirt. "We might not like all the parts, but… well what the hell kind of story never has anything bad happen in it, huh?"

"That's... true," Bucky agrees, surprised to find himself smiling, and even more surprised to find himself drawing a fingertip down Steve's chest, next to the long scar. "What's the story here?"

"Open-heart surgery, when I was fifteen."

"Christ."

Steve nods. "I'm alive though. And so are you."

"Yeah," Bucky says. There was a time that it almost seemed too hard to be, but he's here now. Doing pretty well. Feeling, actually, pretty damn good.

There is a man in his bed, and he's not made of chocolate, and he's sitting here seeing Bucky's scars while Bucky's seeing his. He's smiling at Bucky and tugging at his undershirt with his eyebrows raised, and Bucky nods his head. He wants everything off.

They finish stripping each other slowly, pants and underwear and socks all dropped off the side of the bed. They haven't touched yet, but they get under the covers together, right in the center with all the pillows around them. Bucky on his left side so his right arm is free to… to do anything at all.

"This is like… magic," Steve says, and Bucky smiles. "Can I kiss you?"

Bucky nods, reaching across the small space between them to hold Steve's waist and run his thumb over the soft skin of his belly. He closes his eyes when Steve leans into him, breathes in deep when their lips meet and Steve's are so, so warm. 

He hadn't thought that much about how long it's been since he's kissed anyone, hadn't realized quite how much he missed it. Especially kisses like these, slow and searching. Deepening by degrees while Steve's fingers work their way into his hair, winding and stroking and gently tugging.

Bucky groans when Steve pulls a little harder while sucking on Bucky's lip, and then startles when his cock brushes against Steve's hip. He hadn't realized Steve had gotten so close as they kissed, but now he's almost right up against Bucky. He _is_ right up against him, when Bucky pulls him that last bit closer, and fuck, there's something so nice about the way this feels. How small Steve is, and how he fits so nicely under Bucky's arm.

His ass is a perfect little handful when Bucky cups it, and Steve hums at the touch, rolling his hips. His hands have slid down to Bucky's chest to knead at the muscle there and thumb lightly over Bucky's nipples.

" _Jesus,_ you're fuckin' solid," Steve says. "Couldn't tell how big you are in your picture."

"I think that picture was generally a bad choice," Bucky says with a little huff of a laugh that turns into more of a gasp when Steve pinches his nipple.

"What? No, it's adorable. And then finding out there was a brick shithouse under that hoodie…"

"That's… good, right?" Bucky says.

Steve doesn't answer him, but his smile turns wolfish and he pushes Bucky onto his back. 

"I'm really glad I found you."

Bucky wants to say he's glad too, but he's so distracted looking up at Steve, drawn to the jut of his Adam's apple and the sharp lines of his collarbones and shoulders. He's not soft at all, but he's exactly right. Bucky wants all those points and angles and edges. He wants them pressing into him and making him feel alive. 

"I'm… I really want you to fuck me," he says, letting his thoughts slip right out without overthinking and filtering them first.

If Steve's smile was wolfish before, it's downright feral now. Bright and wild but… still safe, somehow. Bucky doesn't understand it. Doesn't know how Steve fits right in here with all the rounded shapes and fluffy surfaces, but he does—and Bucky bets Steve's going to fit just right inside him, too. 

"Condom?" Steve asks. "I've got some in my jeans if you—"

"Nightstand," Bucky says, nodding towards it since his hand is holding Steve's thigh, pale and narrow in his grip, and he has no desire to let go. "Second drawer."

Steve leans over him to fish through the drawer, and comes up with a foil packet and a little bottle of lube that he pops open to dribble over his fingers. 

"Gotta open up for me," he says, nudging at Bucky's legs and then fitting himself in between them when Bucky spreads them. He rests his hands on the insides of Bucky's thighs, eyes moving slowly over his face, his chest, his cock—lying thick and swollen against his hip. "Fuck, you're beautiful. Okay if I suck you off a little while I'm prepping you?"

"You, uh… yeah, yes. You don't have to ask me that."

"Your body, your choices, pal," Steve says with an easy grin, running the backs of his fingers along Bucky's shaft and then down over his balls. 

Bucky doesn't know what the fuck kind of planet alignment is taking place right now that _this_ is the guy he connected with, but he's so goddamn grateful for it. Steve can't know it—or, on second thought, maybe whatever led to heart surgery at fifteen means he can—but all of Bucky's months in recovery and PT left him feeling, at times, like his body didn't even belong to him anymore. Like what happened to it was beyond his control.

And it was, in some ways. Losing his arm wasn't his choice, that's for fucking sure. 

But what happens to it now—how well he takes care of it, who touches it, what feels good to him—that's all up to him. It should only ever be up to him, and Steve gets that. 

"Steve," Bucky says.

Steve looks up at him, a slick fingertip pressed to Bucky's hole now, and his beautiful, lean body curving over so his lips are just inches away from Bucky's cock. He smiles, raising his eyebrows expectantly when Bucky doesn't say anything else. 

"I, uh—I just… thank you."

That was probably a weird thing to say. Bucky is probably the weirdest hook-up Steve's ever had.

He doesn't seem to mind though. His eyes do something soft and he leans over Bucky so he can kiss his lips. Once, twice—soft and sweet. And then a third time, longer and a little dirtier. With flicks of his tongue, and teeth dragging over Bucky's lip. 

"Let's make you feel good, Buck," he says, and then he's back down between Bucky's legs, finger nudging up against his hole again, and his other hand wrapping around his cock. "Ready?" 

Bucky nods and the light pressure becomes firm and persistent until Steve's finger slips inside him, just as wet lips press against the tip of his cock. 

" _Ah,"_ Bucky breathes out even though it's just the start. It feels so nice already, and Steve eases him into it all so carefully, so unhurried. Moves his finger in slow, gliding strokes, just to the second knuckle. Mouths at Bucky's cockhead, kitten-licks the slit, rolls Bucky's balls in his hand. "That's… that's good, Steve."

Steve looks up at him with a smile, then goes right back to kissing every inch of his cock. Laving the shaft with his tongue, and then finally sucking lightly on the tip as he works Bucky open on his finger with that same steady pace. 

"Another," Bucky says, when he feels himself relaxing, wanting for more. 

Steve's eyes flick up to him again and stay there, watching Bucky's face while he closes his lips tight around Bucky's cock and bobs down. Cheeks hollowing out and tongue doing something that makes Bucky's breath catch, and then swallowing around him as he pushes two fingers in. Slow and certain till they're deep inside and Bucky's panting from it, or maybe panting just from the sight of it all. Steve's red lips spread around him and his narrow shoulders between Bucky's legs.

He can't keep his eyes open when Steve really starts going down on him, sucking in perfect little pulses as he takes Bucky deeper. Fucking him slow with fingers that know just where to curl to draw little gasps from Bucky, to make him moan when Steve swallows hard and presses his fingers harder. 

Bucky has no idea how much time has passed, but it feels like he's heating up fast. Balls getting tight and skin prickling with anticipation, like with every drag of suction along his cock, Steve is pulling Bucky's pleasure up to the surface, closer and closer until it's buzzing in his ears.

"Shit, Steve I'm… gotta stop. I want..."

"Close?" Steve asks after coming off Bucky's cock with a wet sound that brings Bucky even closer to the edge. 

"Yeah, yeah. Can you…" Bucky pauses, because he was about to ask Steve to fuck him, but if he does that now Bucky's gonna come on the spot. "Can you kiss me?" he asks instead.

Steve slips his fingers out of Bucky, then smiles when Bucky's face falls into a pout. He doesn't want to come yet, but he doesn't want to stop either.

"Here," Steve says, pushing into Bucky again with what is definitely three fingers this time, but just keeping them still inside Bucky as he leans up to kiss him. Easy, gentle presses of lips that let Bucky breathe and wind down a little, while the pressure in his ass reminds him of what he gets to work back up to. 

He runs his fingers up and down the little bumps of Steve's spine while they kiss. Strokes his silky hair, cradles his thin neck and pulls him in a little closer, kisses him deeper. 

"Buck," Steve says against his lips, a crack in that smooth, low voice of his. "I'll be a goddamn Boy Scout as long as you need me to, but just… just so you're aware, you're the hottest thing I've ever seen and I might blow my load, like, _really_ soon here."

Bucky opens his eyes so he can take in Steve's face. Open and pink-cheeked and bright with a rueful smile. It takes a few long moments before Bucky can do anything but smile back at him, but then he pulls himself together enough to kiss Steve once more and hand him the condom.

"I'm ready. I'm ready now."

Steve grins, taking Bucky's chin between his thumb and forefinger and turning that one-more-kiss into two more. And then three and four when Bucky winds his fingers through Steve's hair again and keeps him close, because it's too hard to stop when Steve's tongue is in his mouth. He still tastes a little like Bucky, but with something else there too. Something new and warm. 

"Buck, I gotta—gotta get in you," Steve says, finally pulling out the fingers that have been keeping Bucky so nice and full. "Can you—" He has the condom in one hand and lube all over the other, so Bucky takes the little packet and rips it open with his teeth.

"Uh, hot," Steve says.

"Make sure I didn't tear it. I mean, I'm clean, but—"

"Same," Steve says, but he checks the condom over before pinching the tip and rolling it over himself. 

Bucky almost wants to tell him to leave it off, but he holds his tongue. This is just a hook-up. Steve is just a (hot, thoughtful, funny, genuine) guy who happened to click on Bucky's picture and decide he was worth a fuck. 

One fuck.

Bucky maybe—fairly likely—didn't think this whole thing through very well. Or he didn't think through what exactly it is that he's been missing and wanting. He hasn't been in a relationship in what feels like eons, but...

"Bucky? You alright?" Steve asks, and Bucky shakes himself mentally, turning his focus back to what's right in front of him. This naked, gorgeous man with his hand around his own cock, slicking it up so he can ease it into Bucky's ass where's he's soft and empty now. So fucking ready for something that's not a goddamn toy. 

That's a lot. It's enough. It's… at least enough for now.

"Yeah," Bucky says, reaching to get his own hand around Steve's cock, pumping it through the condom. "Yeah, come on."

Steve groans and stays in place for a minute, head tipped back and hips rising into Bucky's touch, but then he's cursing and pulling away. "Jesus _fuck,_ I'm sorry if I don't last long," he says. "You still comfy on your back? What's best for you?"

Bucky is actually getting a little stiff, but he doesn't want to be stuck holding himself up with one arm if he gets on his knees either. He doesn't want to be difficult, and he doesn't want to make Steve wait, but he's never navigated this before and he doesn't actually know _._ He doesn't know what works best for him yet.

"Um," he says, feeling clumsy and slow all of a sudden. Feeling tears prick at his eyes out of nowhere because this never used to be hard, and probably it won't always be hard, but right now it just _is._ "I don't—I don't know."

"Okay," Steve says, light and easy, like it actually is. "That's okay, we can figure it out. Wanna roll over? Just on your side?"

Bucky nods, shifting onto his side while Steve moves with him so they're still face to face. There's some awkward maneuvering of limbs before they work themselves into a position in which they _could_ fuck, but…

"It's... kind of hurting my shoulder," Bucky admits. He doesn't even know why, because he lies on his left side all the time and it's usually fine, but there's an uncomfortable twinge in it now. Because why not make what should be an uncomplicated fuck into the most complicated one possible?

Steve just nods though, running his fingers over Bucky's chest while he bites his lip, thinking. "How about on your stomach, like just flat on the bed? So I can just…" He rolls his hips into Bucky and raises his eyebrows suggestively, making Bucky smile. "Literally fuck you into the mattress? I'm super down with that option, if you are."

"Down to buck?" Bucky asks before he can stop himself. By all rights it should be a deal breaker, but Steve has been so goddamn patient with all of this, maybe he'll be patient with what a dumbass Bucky is too.

"You're a fucking dork," Steve says with a mile-wide smile. "Yeah I'm down to buck. Turn your ass over."

Bucky does as he's told, feeling the heat that had started ebbing away flaring right back up again before he's even gotten into position. Then his dick's pressed to the pillow under his hips, and Steve's climbing over him—stroking his back and nipping at his shoulder blade, and then spreading his ass open with his thumbs—and Bucky doesn't get how any of this is happening, but he's so fucking glad it is. 

Maybe it's just one fuck, but it's with a guy who's worked with Bucky every step of the way to make him comfortable, and whose cock feels like _heaven_ when he pushes it in. All in one slow, steady thrust until his bony hips hit Bucky's ass, and Bucky finds himself breathless.

"How's that feel?" Steve asks, his warm little body pressed against Bucky, one hand coming up to make a loose fist around Bucky's hair.

"Good, really…" Bucky pauses to breathe, closing his eyes and pressing his ass back against Steve as he just _feels_ it. The stretch and the pressure and Steve's breath on his skin. "... really good." 

Steve groans and kisses Bucky's back, circling his hips in a lazy grind before pulling out. Just till the head of his cock catches at Bucky's rim. 

"Want it slow?" he asks. "I'll do you however you want, Buck _, shit,_ you feel so good. You want it nice and soft and—"

"No," Bucky says, not even needing to think about it. He loves his soft bed and pillows and blankets, but that's not what he wants now. He doesn't always have to be wrapped up in gauzy comfort to feel good, to feel safe. There's a sharp heat gripping him where he's spread open around Steve's cock and he _loves_ it. He wants more and more of it. "Hard, please. I want it—"

Steve slams back into him with more force than Bucky can even make sense of from someone so small. It jerks Bucky's hips into the bed and sends a white hot burst of pleasure-pain right up his spine. 

" _Fuck,_ yes. Like that, like—"

Steve snaps his hips again, driving deep into Bucky and staying there just long enough to make him ache, then he does it over, and over. Nailing Bucky hard and steady while he pulls back on his hair. 

Bucky dimly registers that this is the best of both worlds. The soft give of the bed on one side, and the relentless pounding of hips and cock on the other. Solid, and biting, and so _hot_ that Bucky can't believe he ever forgot this feeling. The throbbing, aching, intimate heat of someone else's body inside his own.

His eyes are watering with it, his whole body straining as his muscles tighten and his back bows to keep his ass turned up to Steve, taking him as deep as he can.

"Shit, _shit_ Bucky, that's perfect," Steve murmurs, lips brushing Bucky's back. Sharp chin tapping against his spine every time Steve fucks into him. 

It's almost perfect, it's so good, but Bucky wants just a little bit more. Wants to be actively taking, to be touching. He shifts so he can brace himself on his left shoulder, forehead pressed to the bed, and reaches his right arm behind himself. Finding Steve's hip, and then his ass, and gripping it tight. 

Steve gasps and presses back into Bucky's palm, moaning and following his lead when Bucky digs his fingers in, just below the modest curve of Steve's cheek, and pulls Steve hard against himself. Adding just a little more force to each thrust.

 _This_ is perfect. Steve's soft skin in Bucky's hand, tight muscle flexing every time he splits Bucky open. His thighs are pressed on either side of Bucky's legs, fingers still caught up in his hair, breath falling on Bucky's back in quick, heavy puffs. He's cursing and grinding so fucking deep. Scraping teeth over Bucky's shoulder blade and then digging them in so hard Bucky cries out. 

The shock of it shivers through him in bright little sparks that heat his blood and flood his gut with want. With right-on-the-edge need. He moans when Steve does it again and Steve echoes him, hips striking Bucky's ass so hard Bucky forgets how to even make a sound. Just goes silent when Steve stays there deep inside him, teeth pinching and hand curled tight in Bucky's hair as he comes with little stuttering jerks of his hips.

"Buck," he says, panting and still pulsing inside of Bucky. "Lift up a little for me, let me…"

Bucky gets his right arm back on the bed so he can brace himself on his forearm and lift his hips enough for Steve to get a hand underneath him, tight around Bucky's cock. He whines just at the first touch, does it again louder when Steve starts to jerk him, his cock still hot and perfect in Bucky's ass. 

"There you go, Buck," Steve croons when Bucky's shoulders start to shake. His fingers are gentle in Bucky's hair now, his other hand rough and steady. "I've got you, c'mon."

Bucky holds out for as long as he can, hanging on to that bright, electric feeling of his entire body wound so tight it almost hurts. But Steve's fingers are so good, his voice so low and hot when he praises Bucky, when he tells him to come, and Bucky spills for him on command. Thick, heated pulses that feel endless. That Steve catches and smoothes back over Bucky's skin until he jerks in Steve's hand, shivering and oversensitive. 

Steve kisses his back and lets go of him, kisses him again as he eases slowly out of Bucky's ass.

"Pal," he says. "I hate to tell you this because I know you love your bed a lot, but you definitely jizzed all over this pillow."

Bucky snorts, rolling off the cum-soaked pillow and onto his side. "It's alright. There's six more where that came from."

"I like a man who's well prepared," Steve grins, balling the used condom up in a wad of tissues from Bucky's nightstand and stretching out at Bucky's side. 

He's so close, Bucky can see the lightest freckles across his nose and cheeks, and the way his hair has darkened to a deep gold with sweat. Bucky lifts a hand to brush it out of Steve's eyes for him, and then can't resist running a thumb down the side of his face. Brushing it over the swell of his bottom lip. 

He doesn't even try to resist kissing him, and he loves the way Steve hums and melts into it, lips parting so soft and easy to fit themselves to Bucky's. 

He _hates_ that this is almost over. 

They kiss a little while longer, but eventually Steve pulls back and Bucky lets him go, because he knows he's supposed to. 

"I should…" Steve says, and Bucky nods, even though he shouldn't, really. He should stay here and let Bucky trace the sharp lines of Steve's ribs with his tongue. He should give Bucky his number and tell him his last name so this isn't so anonymous, so finite. 

But that's not what they signed up for, that's not how this works, so he just watches Steve get out of bed and tug his skinny jeans back on, then pull his hoodie over his head. There's a big white star in the center of it. It probably sits right over Steve's scar. 

"I... I had a good time," Steve says with that little half-smile he gave Bucky when they first met and Steve thought Bucky had a problem with his height. Well, after that, when he realized he didn't. Before that he looked like he was ready to punch Bucky, and maybe _that's_ why he goes by BiteMe, even though he's the one who left the print of his teeth on Bucky's back.

"Same," Bucky says simply, because if he says anything more it will probably be embarrassing. He just has to get through saying goodbye, and then he can curl up under the covers and keep watching that show he started last night. He'll finish his chocolate man, and he'll be fine. This is what he _wanted._ No conversation. No history. 

Except… they did talk, already. He knows Steve creates things, he knows he was cut open and stitched back together. He knows he's sharp, and soft, and probably a whole host of other things that Bucky could discover if he had the chance. If he _took_ the chance. 

"Steve, listen," Bucky says before he can chicken out, but then Steve bites his lip, eyebrows creasing like he's just done something wrong.

"Sorry," he says. "I'll go, I promise, I just… can I just tell you something first?"

"I—of course, Steve. I wasn't—I mean you don't have to..." Bucky shakes his head, because his words aren't coming together right. He reaches for Steve's hand instead of trying again, pulling him back towards the bed till he's seated next to Bucky. "What is it?" he asks.

"I… look, I just wanted to be honest about…" He takes a breath, looking up at Bucky with those bright blue eyes. "The thing is, I actually usually filter out guys who just want a one and done. But my app updated today and lost my preferences, and before I could fix it I… I saw you."

"Oh," Bucky says. He didn't know you could filter results like that. He didn't even look at Steve's profile beyond his picture, he just assumed...

"You were so fucking cute," Steve goes on, "but not trying to be cute, and I figured… I mean what the hell? It's Valentine's day, and you're gorgeous, so why not just go for it, right?"

"Right," Bucky says, because that was his reasoning too, but now he's trying to process that maybe this _isn't_ just a regular thing for Steve. That maybe he's more interested in something that carries beyond one night. And maybe—

"Sorry, shit, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I just… I don't do the hook-up thing, normally. I don't regret it at all, and it's cool if that's definitely all you want, but it seemed like—I was just kinda hoping—"

"It's not," Bucky says, even though Steve was still talking. Sometimes he just has to talk when his words are willing to come out. "Sorry, I'm… sorry, what were you hoping?"

"No, that's—what do you mean 'it's not'?"

"I didn't… I didn't really know what I wanted," Bucky admits, looking down at the blanket over his lap, soft and familiar. He lets his eyes slide to the right where Steve sits, his bony fingers on his own lap with those little left behind bits of color. Not soft, not familiar, but… really nice. "I just, I'm trying to figure it all out, getting back to my life, and I thought dating was too much, but then I… I don't know, Steve. I really want to see you again so I guess… I think I _am_ interested in dating if it's, you know… if it's with you."

Steve is very quiet, so Bucky has to turn his head and raise his eyes till they find Steve's face. There's a smile on it that's sweet and hopeful, and a crease between his brows that's uncertain.

"So like, when you say dating, you mean..."

"I mean, I'd like to actually get that drink," Bucky says. "If that's… if you'd like to."

"Now?" Steve asks, his brows have smoothed out and his smile has shifted from sweet to something almost sharp, but in a really good way.

"I'm not wearing pants now," Bucky says. 

"That's true," Steve says with a nod. "It's a good look on you."

"Yeah?"

Steve smiles, tugging the blanket so it slips a little lower on Bucky's hips. "Definitely. So maybe no drinks tonight."

"Maybe next week though?" Bucky says, catching Steve's hand and meeting his eyes so Steve will know he means this. 

"Yeah," Steve says, winding his fingers between Bucky's. "I'd really like that."

"And maybe you don't have to leave quite yet."

"Maybe if you put that cat hoodie on I'll stay as long as you want me to."

Bucky groans and shoves Steve away from him, and Steve just laughs, falling back on the bed. He looks so goddamn perfect there, pale on Bucky's dark sheets.

"I can't even _imagine_ the lines you've probably gotten."

"They're bad, Steve. They're really bad."

"Show me," Steve says, and it takes a bit of time, and some rearranging of pillows, but before long Bucky finds himself comfortably dressed in his cat-eared hoodie and underwear, with Steve curled up under his arm. 

They spend a little while reading through the worst of the pick-up lines he's received, spend quite a long while kissing, and then Bucky does watch some more of that series he started last night. He does it with Steve leaning into him, whispering questions every so often, and tucking his hand into the pocket at the front of Bucky's hoodie like it was made for him. 

When they say goodnight they kiss in the doorway of Bucky's room, and then they kiss at the front door too. And when Bucky gets a message from Steve after he's crawled back into bed, it isn't through the app. It's a text message from Steve Rogers.

 **SR:** tell your roommate thanks for me  
 **SR:** the perfect man was fucking delicious

They may have finished Sam's Valentine's gift off together before Steve left. Bucky ate the chest and abs, and Steve ate the boxers. They made a lot of stupid sex jokes until there was nothing left but chocolate on their lips and an empty pink box.

So _The Perfect Man_ is gone, but Bucky does not feel bereft. Sam was right about how much better something real could be. _Someone_ real. Someone skinny and scarred, who snorts when he laughs really hard. Someone who texts Bucky late into the night until they're too sleepy to type properly, and mostly just tease each other about how little sense they're making. 

Someone Bucky is taking for dinner on Tuesday night. Someone who left the scent of soap and sex and possibility on Bucky's sheets, who fit so nicely next to him in his bed.

Just because a bed is large, that doesn't mean there _needs_ to be two people in it, but having experienced it now—having the promise of a repeat experience in the very near future—Bucky finds that he _likes_ having two people in it very much. 

He finds that if it's for a small blond man with a voice that Bucky feels in his bones, the pillow to person ratio shifting from 7:1 to 7:2 is really not a loss at all. 

It's probably even something he could end up loving.

**Author's Note:**

>  _The Perfect Man_ is a real thing, and when I saw him at the store I knew I had to give him to Bucky. And then of course I also had to give him Steve, who really is perfect for him. ❤
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can find my other stucky fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=110293&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Ellessey), and can find me continually singing their praises (and Sebastian Stan's) on twitter at [elliebbarnes](https://twitter.com/elliebbarnes).


End file.
